Universally Compatible
by caffeine.bloodstream
Summary: MacPCFirefox. Implied techshipping of the highest order. [It was a convention, a big industry bash, and you know how those things are.]


Universally Compatible

By caffeine.bloodstream

2.2007

Disclaimer: The only Mac I own is the one on my desk. Also, this is going to make very little sense if you haven't seen the commercials. Apple dot com slash getamac slash ads. Seriously, they're great.

If you've come this far, hopefully the idea of implied anthropomorphized-computer slash doesn't bother you. And hopefully, throwing a bit of software into the mix is okay too. Note: this was a quick, drabbly write. You've been warned.

* * *

"Wow," PC breathed, for about the second or third time in as many minutes. 

"Yeah," agreed Mac, just as he had before.

It was a convention, a big industry bash, and you know how those things are. The segue from checking out the equipment in the company booth to taking that equipment back to the hotel room you got for the weekend is a deceptively easy one.

They hadn't gone together, officially, because it would have raised more eyebrows and made more waves than either of them were really comfortable with just yet. It was one thing for Mac to quietly show up at PC's office and lend a hand when it came time to package all the data into nice, aesthetically-pleasing presentations; it was quite another for them to demonstrate their newfound compatibility in front of people who'd like nothing more than to document it and pick it apart for analysis. They were registered separately. Officially, PC had a room. If Mac had somehow forgotten to book his own (those Macs never were good at organization, people would say), well…PC would very helpfully put him up for the weekend.

Media-friendly cover stories aside, though, they were spending more of the convention in each other's company than they'd expected. For as different as their interests were, they still ended up bumping into each other at the guest seminars, or ogling the same new peripherals and just-out-of-beta software. Eventually, once the two of them (mostly PC) had gotten over the initial paranoia of being seen together, they'd just sort of gone with it, strolling the temporary aisles that had formed in the ballroom-turned-tradeshow together.

That was how they'd met her.

She was easy to spot, a hip dresser among a crowd composed mostly of people and machines that looked like they shopped wherever PC did. She wasn't the only one sporting the sleek, smart, look-at-me style – far from it, especially where the peripherals were concerned – but she was definitely an eye-catcher.

And a redhead. Mac had a little bit of a weakness for redheads.

She'd been the one to approach them. PC, in his usual tendency towards paranoia, had already been on the defensive any time someone took notice of the unlikely pair they made; between that and the much simpler effects of "wow, she's pretty", he'd tensed to the point of locking up. She and Mac had shared a laugh and a sympathetic comment or two while they waited for PC to come around again; by the time he did, introductions were being made, and just like that their odd wandering twosome had become a threesome. Stayed that way for much of the afternoon, too. And the evening.

In retrospect, it was all a little bizarre. Something out of a movie. They'd gotten tipsy off one too many free demos and trial downloads, and the hotel LAN had started to feel a little crowded, and oh, Mac hadn't thought to book a room – but PC had one, and it'd be quieter up there, less hectic.

"Wow." He wasn't frozen or skipping. It was just the kind of comment that bore repeating.

"Yup."

She'd bubbled with self-confidence as she remarked that she was universally compatible, that she had one up on, say, Internet Explorer, in that respect. PC had cringed; the name didn't come up again, and that awkwardness passed naturally away as they chatted. There were more downloads (the hotel was effectively giving them away), more bubbly little beta packs, and the conversation had somehow gotten more and less serious at once. Which didn't make sense, now that PC thought back on it, but who was he to argue?

PC had not been flirted with in longer than he cared to remember, except by Mac, and Mac flirted with _everyone_. It was like he couldn't help it. So he wasn't surprised to see the charms working between those two. He _was_ surprised when her easy, friendly demeanor turned on him, keeping him engaged, seeming just as interested in his need for organization as she had in Mac's fondness for streaming video. Universally compatible, indeed.

How they'd gone from talking about their interfaces to talking about _her_ interface, and then from that to her grinning and showing it off, was anyone's guess. PC would later ascribe it to being slightly loaded from those downloads; Mac wouldn't bother to ascribe it to anything. He could just sort of appreciate it for what it was.

Especially when 'what it was' moved from looking to touching, from the living-area of the suite to the bedroom.

"What did she…" PC paused. He was still a little dazed, and amazingly, that wasn't bothering him. "What did she call that thing…with…"

"DownThemAll," Mac answered, and shivered happily at the memory.

Afterwards, she'd composed herself with a wink towards Mac (and PC, but he was trying very hard just to keep from all-out crashing right then, and didn't notice) and slipped out, leaving them to marvel at the demo they'd just experienced.

"Did you see how she was handling those extensions?" Mac murmured appreciatively, eyes still closed, lost in a happy sprawl across his side of the bed.

"Please," came the slightly strained reply. "Don't bring those up until I can process right again."

Mac wasn't sure which part of her name he found more fitting, in the end: the Fire, or the Fox.


End file.
